Blame
by gleekTHESPIAN
Summary: Santana loves Brittany a little too much...
1. Ice Cream

"Lord Tubbington, no! Get – off!"

I giggled watching Brittany lift the giant cat off of her laptop and onto the floor. I've never seen a cat that big before in my life, but never mentioned that to Brittany (it might hurt her feelings).

Lord Tubbington blinked up at us from his new spot on the floor. Brittany shooed him out of her room and he wobbled out, his tail twitching.

"Sorry, San," Brittany sighed, climbing back onto her bed where I waited patiently with the laptop still open. "I told him to stop sneaking into my room like that – ever since he found out where my diary was hidden."

Smiling, I scooted over and made room for the blonde. "C'mon, enough of this," I closed the laptop that had multiple tabs open of YouTube clips. We were searching for a duet to sing together for Glee Club. I set the still-warm computer at the edge of her bed. "Let's go get some ice cream."

"But it's 9:30 at night. Eating after six is bad for you."

"Who cares, Britt? I'm in the mood for something sweet and the time of day is not going to stop me."

"What about Coach Sylvester?" Brittany retorted. "She wouldn't be too happy about not following the diets she planned for us."

"Brittany," I said, looking straight into her big blue eyes, "I'm Santana Lopez and no psycho cheerleading coach is going to stop me from getting what I want."

She blinked, knowing I meant a lot more than just getting ice cream. Leaning in, Brittany locked her lips with mine ever so gently, and kissed them.

"Okay, let's go," She whispered into my mouth.

"Hold on," I replied and kissed her again, holding onto the small of her back. These little moments with Brittany always brought me back to why I loved her so much. She wanted the best for me, even if that meant sacrificing a late night run for ice cream when your cheerleading coach would make you run extra laps after practice. But also how she was the best girlfriend in Lima, Ohio. "I think that ice cream can wait bit."

Brittany smiled into my mouth and pushed me onto my back, not letting our lips part. She ran her hands over my stomach and eventually made her way up to my breasts as I ran my fingers through her long, beautiful hair, kissing her more passionately. She took the hint and then lifted off my shirt and unhooked my bra, tossing them aside.

She stared only for a second before leaning down to kiss my bare chest while my own hands traveled down her back until I found the edge of her shirt and pulled it over her head, unhooked her lacy pink bra, and tossed them by mine laying on her floor.

Without speaking, she tickled her fingers down my midline and slowly undid the buttons on my jean shorts and pulled them and my panties off simultaneously.

As I lay there completely naked and kissing her, I felt her long fingers make their way inside of me. I arched my back, feeling chills run through my entire body and ecstasy filled the air. Brittany rubbed her thumb on me and then curled her fingers, making them hit the spot she knew I loved. My body reacted and I held onto her as I gasped.

She stayed there only a little longer before slowly pulling out and then laying on her side next to me. I rolled over to face her, stared into her eyes, ran my finger along her jaw bone, and whispered, "Your turn, babe?"

"No," she whispered back. "That was for you. I'm fine"

I smiled and kissed her softly. Even though I wanted to be inside her, if Brittany said she was fine, I was going to listen because she was being honest. "I love you, Britt."

"I love you too, San."

After re-clothing ourselves and brushing our hair, I grabbed my keys in one hand, and Brittany's hand in the other. We ran out of her house, almost racing each other to my car, but never letting go of each other until we made it. I opened the passenger side door and ushered her into the car just as a proper date should behave.

It was a beautiful spring night – it almost felt like summer – so we rolled down the windows as we drove and let the breeze run through our hair. Breathing in the fresh air, I sighed happily and turned on the radio. I didn't turn the volume up too high, because that's the way Brittany liked it – just quiet background music so we could still talk. And anything Brittany wanted, Brittany got.

As we drove through the small downtown of Lima, Brittany stuck her hand out the window and said, "Look, San, I'm a dolphin!"

I looked over at her and laughed. She was utterly fascinated by the way her hand could move in the wind like a dolphin jumping over the ocean's waves. I felt so in love just watching her at that moment that I didn't notice the red light that was ahead.

The last thing I remembered was a horn blasting, Brittany's reaction, and her blood-curling cry when she saw the truck coming right at her.


	2. Memories

**Thank you to Sticky and supergleek for reviewing! Hope you guys stick with the story. I'm really nervous since this is my first real fanfic and so I'm going to need all the support/ideas from readers!**

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><p>It's my fault. It's my fault Brittany is dead. If I didn't come up with the stupid idea of getting ice cream. If I actually watched the road. If I hadn't loved Brittany as much as I did, I would have never lost focus when driving and ran that red light. If I didn't love Brittany, she would still be here.<p>

So now I sit here, staring down at my sweaty hands clasped in my lap. I sit here, surrounded by the rest of the Glee Club, my parents, Mr. Schue, Coach Sylvester, and the Cheerios squad as well.

I sit here at Brittany's funeral.

My mother is on my right and Quinn sits on my left, her hand resting lightly on my arm, comforting me.

But I'm not comforted. I'm hurt. Not only mentally, but physically. The cuts and bruises from the accident ache constantly and I have a consistent throbbing headache from the concussion I received when the truck hit my small car. How is it fair that I got out of that accident with only a concussion but Brittany dies on impact?

Brittany.

Her presence fills the church that we sit in. Her name and face is everywhere I look. On those silly programs that get handed out, on the pictures surrounding her casket, her name being said in speeches. She's everywhere, haunting me. She's still scolding Lord Tubbington for smoking, she's still prancing around in her adorable green dress at prom, she's still dancing her heart out as I sing Valerie, she's still surprising me everyday with a new hat she's wearing, and, most of all, she's still loving me.

Brittany.

I haven't cried yet today. I think I may have worn myself out. I cried yesterday and the day before, the day before that, and the day when I woke up in a hospital room with my parents and _abuela_. I immediately knew something was bad if my _abuela_ was there. We hadn't talked since the night I came out to her, but when she saw I was awake, she rushed over to my bedside and held me close, crying and telling me that she loved me and apologized for how she reacted when I broke the news.

"¿_Lo que pasó, abuela_? Confused by her behavior, I asked what happened.

"It's Brittany, darling..." She never finished her sentence and I wracked my brain for the possibilities of what happened to my Brittany.

Then I remembered.

I remembered the accident. The accident that was my fault. The accident that killed her.

I cried during every waking moment I had at the hospital. I didn't even want the doctors to allow the Glee kids to see me. Brittany wasn't just my friend, she was the entire club's. How could Quinn forgive me for causing the death of one of our unholy trinity? How could Mike forgive me for loosing his best dance partner? I didn't want to see any of them. I didn't want to face them. But they insisted. All they did, though, is sit in my room and cry. No one talked.

Quinn was at my bedside just milliseconds after she entered my room. Besides me, she was the closest to Brittany in Glee Club because of Cheerios and everything. Quinn grasped my hand in both of hers, put her forehead on top of the trembling tangle of hands and cried. I placed my free hand on the back of her neck and cried with her.

Even the boys of the club were crying – even Puck. Seeing him cry hurt even more. We had all lost Brittany.

We all lost my Brittany and it was my fault.

Brittany.

So now I sit here at her funeral. I sit here, dressed in the black dress that Brittany helped me pick out for one of our dates just three small months ago.

I can't even listen to what's going on. I look up from where my hands rest in my lap and stare at the pictures surrounding her casket. Next to one of her that was taken in New York City last year for Nationals is a framed picture of lyrics written in beautiful calligraphy by Brittany's mother.

_Looking back on the memory_

_Of the dance we shared beneath the stars alone._

_For a moment, all the world was right._

_How could I have known that you'd ever say goodbye?_

Quinn nudges me ever so softly and I look up. The pastor from Brittany's church must've finished his speech and is sadly looking my way. I realize that it's my turn. It's my turn to say something to Brittany's family and friends.

I stand up slowly, every noise from the creaky pew echoes in the quiet church, joining the faint sounds of sniffling and crying. I make my way up to the podium, every step making me feel as if I'm stepping further away from Brittany. The more steps I make, the closer to goodbye I'm getting.

My sweaty hands fumble in the pocket of my dress (Brittany loved dresses with pockets – more of the reason she loved this dress for me) until my fingers clasp around the small piece of folded paper. I smooth it out and nervously clear my throat. Trying to stop my hands from shaking, I take a deep breath and begin, my voice quivering.

"For those of you who do not know, I am Santana Lopez," I pause, willing myself not to glance into the audience for fear I wouldn't be able to finish what I wanted to say. I needed to say this for Brittany. Brittany would have wanted it. And what Brittany wanted, Brittany got. "And I'm – was … I'm Brittany's girlfriend."

The atmosphere changes in the crowded church. Not all of Brittany's relatives or friends knew she was homosexual. I can't help myself as my eyes glance around. They sweep over the half-shocked, half-not group and end up landing on her parents. They knew about us long before we even knew for sure and seeing Mr. and Mrs. Pierce's faces helped me continue. They both had tears streaking down their cheeks, but Mr. Pierce's eyes – that reminded me so much of Brittany's – looked as if they were looking right through me, They weren't full of hate, as I expected since I'm the one to blame for his daughter's death, but they were full of sorrow and understanding.

"B-Brittany Susan Pierce," I continued, my voice stuttering while I held back tears, "was the most beautiful, talented, loving, and smartest girl I have ever met. She was always by my side since the day we met in fourth grade. The day that I fell in some mud during recess and she was the only kid in our class to help me out." My body tried to laugh, but my emotions were soaring too high to involve any humor. What was supposed to be a small chuckle turned into more of a choked gasp, which lead to the tears. Needing to continue, I cried out the rest of my speech.

"We were rarely seen apart and she made me who I am today. It was her idea to try out for the Cheerios squad our freshman year at McKinley. Through her confidence and grace doing routines, I learned to do the same. She was the best dancer on the squad and also in Glee Club.

"It was Glee Club that brought us closer together. I remember how Brittany was so excited to go to Glee rehearsal that she sometimes went straight to the choir room forgetting that she still had one more class left in the day." I let out a pathetic laugh-sob.

"In Glee, we both learned about acceptance and love. The first time Brittany told me she loved me, I knew that my life with her would never be the same."

I stop. Now reading this out loud in public, I start to regret wanting to say something. My life was never the same once we fell in love, and now my life is broken. Brittany was my life. Brittany was everything I lived for. I was in Cheerios because of Brittany. I learned to love Glee Club and the people in it because of Brittany. I loved Brittany for who she was. And now she's stripped away from me so suddenly. So suddenly that, without any warning, my life is turned upside down.

I stand at the front of the church, tears and sobs flowing with no means of halting for quite awhile. My right hand that was holding the corner of my still unfinished speech crumples into a tiny, sweaty ball that fits in my palm. Controlling my sobs enough to speak, I improvise and just say what comes out of my mouth.

"Brittany meant so much to not only me, but to so many people she knew. What she didn't know, though, is how much she could affect those people. She didn't know that her charm could fill you up with so much joy and love for life that you forget about all your bad days you've been through. Loosing Brittany is like loosing an angel. And … I'm sorry…"

I don't know what I'm sorry for exactly. I make my way back to my seat between my mom and Quinn. I'm not quite sure what just happened up there, but I couldn't say I was feeling any better about coping than I was before.

The rest of the ceremony blurs by and I find myself hugging Mr. and Mrs. Pierce before numbly climbing into the back of my parents' Subaru.

Once I got home, I curled up as small as I could in my bed. The smaller my body and thoughts were, the smaller the memories would be, I thought.

But I was wrong.

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><p><strong>AN: The lyrics used are from "The Dance" by Garth Brooks. I felt it fit perfectly since Brittany loved to dance.**

**PLEASE review! Let me know what you thought of this scene. It's hard to portray the emotions I have in mind through words, so please let me know your emotional reaction to this or how I could have done it better. Thanks! :)**


	3. Watches and Trains

I took a few days off of school. My parents didn't even need to ask me about it. They just called in and requested to have my homework emailed to me. I never even touched my laptop in the days that followed her funeral. There was no point. The only person I wanted to talk to online wasn't available at the moment.

She will never be available.

Learning to live without Brittany is like being a bird with no wings. There is no point for you to continue to live. You can't escape from the danger in your life alone. Everything you see reminds you of her. Your body slowly becomes weaker and groggier, probably due to the plentiful amount of tears shed and lack of sleep. I stop eating, too. Eventually, my dad tells my mom to stop giving me full meals in bed, but she still tries to make me eat a little every day with no success.

A week has now passed since the accident. I lay in my bed, my eyes to the ceiling, as I mentally count down each and every second down to 9:30.

Just one short week ago, 168 hours ago, 10,080 minutes ago, 604,800 seconds ago, Brittany was here. Brittany was smiling, laughing, breathing, and now she's not. Why didn't I listen to her when she tried to tell me not to go out for fucking ice cream?

For the first time since the accident, I turn on my phone. It had been in police custody until just yesterday – I guess they had to check to see if I was one of those stupid teenagers who texted while driving. No, I was only a stupid girl who was in love.

The screen powers up and then a constant soft vibrate tickles my hand as I receive text message after text message. I see familiar names – and some unfamiliar numbers – flash across the screen. Rachel, Quinn, Mike, Artie, Mercedes, Kurt, the whole Glee gang, my _tios_ and _primos, _some girls from Cheerios, and the messages stop flying in and I see the latest text from none other than Coach Sylvester.

I blink at my phone before I slowly flip open the screen. Coach's message is short: "If you need anything, you know how to reach me."

Maybe I do need something. Or at least someone. Someone to talk to. Without thinking about it any longer, I send a reply: "Are you free tomorrow at 8?" and click the send button before I can regret it.

I don't even bother to check my other messages – I know they'll all say similar things. "Keep your chin up," "I'm here for you," "Miss seeing you at school, hope you are doing better," "Hugs for you," etc. Obviously small words like that mean nothing. Sure, they might have been heartfelt, but it's not going to help me get over the fact that I'm never going to see Brittany again. That I'm never going to hook pinkies with her in the halls again. That I'm never going to give her that one back massage I told her I owed her. That I'm never going to kiss her beautiful lips again. That I'm never going to be able to tell her that I love her and hear her soft voice reply with, "I love you too, San."

My phone vibrates and I open up Coach's reply: "I'll be at my office waiting."

I turn my phone off, place it on my bedside table, and close my eyes. I don't know what I'm even going to say to Coach tomorrow. I don't really care. I need to talk to someone and Mr. Schue or doe-eyed Ms. Pillsbury isn't going to cut it.

Getting sleep is practically impossible – as it has been this past week. As hard as I try, it is impossible _not _to think of Brittany. My memories are starting to go fuzzy and I want to keep them clear in my head until the day I die.

I take that back. I don't want to think about death. It's not an option for me anytime soon. After what happened with Karofsky, I am never going to think about suicide.

Lucky for me (since I haven't been that lucky recently, I guess I'm trying to kid myself with calling this "lucky"), I don't believe in Heaven or Hell or whatnot, so I'm not telling myself that I'm one day going to see Brittany again. No. I'm just not. She hasn't "gone to a better place" or any of that bullshit. She's dead.

Brittany's dead.

Brittany's dead and it's my fault.

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><p>I knew the stares would follow me as I walked through William McKinley's halls. Thankfully I don't see any of the Glee kids as I made my way to Coach Sylvester's familiar office. I wasn't ready for any peer interaction quite yet. I didn't want to face anyone that reminded me of Brittany as much as the Glee Club does. Not yet.<p>

The door to Coach's office was open, so I let myself in just at the 8:00 bell for class rang. This was something that Coach taught us – to be exactly on time. Too early shows that you're eager and a show-off, but being late is unacceptable. Brittany always struggled with this rule of Coach Sylvester's.

She wanted so badly to follow this rule, but she wasn't always on top of things. To help her learn, Brittany once insist that I buy the cereal that came with a cheap Spider-Man watch inside, but she wore it every single day until… well… yeah.

Thewatch was Spider-Man's masked face – his right eye digitally showed the hour and his left one showed the minute. There was even a button on the side that made the eyes light up, so the time could be seen in the dark.

"San, look!" Brittany squealed when she first discovered the small red button on the side of the watch. It was last summer and we lay in the small tent that we set up in my back yard, curled up in sleeping bags on a warm, summer night.

I glanced over at her and giggled as she turned the light on and off over and over.

"Brittany, you're going to wear out the battery if you keep doing that," I told her. She looked at me in confused horror. "Babe, it's okay," I consoled her.

She pouted, but stopped playing with the watch. I rolled over to her, slipping out of my sleeping bag and propped myself up on my knuckles. Brittany lazily looked into my eyes and drowsily said, "You're right, San. You always are."

I closed my eyes as she leaned in to kiss me. We were pretty still for quite a while, just teasing each other with small tracing of tongue on lips before she finally caved and allowed my tongue to enter her warm mouth. It felt beautiful and I got butterflies in my stomach.

As usual, it was Brittany who made the first more physical move. She adjusted herself and got the best angle to pull me down on top of her. As my hands caressed her hips, she gently tickled my back as we made out. Besides our breathing, the only other sounds were crickets chirping and a soft breeze rustling our tent. It was perfect.

Brittany was perfect.

"You make the perfect Mary Jane to my Peter Parker," she said later as we cuddled together in her sleeping bag.

"What's that?" I murmured sleepily.

"I'm Spider-Man and you're my girl," Brittany explained. "But Mary Jane is annoying in the movies and you aren't annoying."

As if they were magnets our pinkies automatically found each other's beneath the sleeping bag and I placed a small kiss on her nose.

"I love you, Britt."

"I love you, too, San."

That night, I dreamt that Brittany was hanging upside down using spider webs, dressed in a skin tight red and blue suit that showed her off in all the right places, and that I stood on the sidewalk, drenched in the pouring rain, and kissed her.

"Hi, Santana."

I was so immersed in my memories of Brittany that I didn't even realize I was already sitting at Coach Sylvester's desk. The tall woman sat on the other side, leaning back in her red chair, hands folded across her stomach, and a rare caring look on her face.

"I would ask how you're feeling, but I am guessing that it's not that great, huh?" she asks, with none of her normal wickedness showing through.

I nod slightly, not even making eye contact with her yet. My eyes stay focused on the red coffee mug that says, in white print, "You think this is hard?" coming out of a cheerleading megaphone.

"Santana," she continued, taking a deep breath, "I want you to know that I am very aware that there is nothing I can say to make you feel any better. This is something that only time can heal."

Of course I know that. I don't say anything as I continue to stare at the mug.

Coach leans forward and folds her hands on her desk. "I went through something very similar when I was your age."

I look up when she says this. I'm curious to know about Coach's past and am grateful to get my mind off of Brittany.

"When I was 17, a senior here at McKinley, one of my best friends died."

I can see this is very hard for her to tell, but she keeps eye contact with me.

"We were being stupid teenagers – drunk of course – and he and some of my other friends decided to go out to the train tracks near his house. He had the brilliant idea to play chicken with the train in his car," she stops and her eyes gaze over. I bet that she's going through the memory of this, just as I just went through the memory of that Spider-Man watch. "I watched as the train ran into his car, killing him instantly. I remember everyone around me screaming and crying as the train was coming, but I didn't say anything. Everything went in slow motion and I caught a look at his face right before he died. He was smiling – laughing probably out of his drunk state."

"Brittany was smiling," I say without meaning to.

Coach nods understandingly. "I never let go of those last moments of his life. Yes, time makes the suffering easier, but you will never forget."

I nod slowly. Finally someone is there for me, telling me how it's actually going to be. No one can fool me with any "It'll get better" shit. Coach somehow made me let go of some burden I was carrying on my shoulders. Knowing that she knows what I'm going through and has been through so many more years of coping than I have, it actually did make me feel a little better.

"What was his name?" I ask, not knowing exactly why I want to know. Maybe to honor his memory or something, who knows.

"Cole," Coach replies softly.

I bite my bottom lip and look down at my lap. Coach Sylvester and I sit in silence for a few minutes.

"Santana," Coach breaks the silence. I look at her and she reaches her right hand forward across her desk. I bring my hand up to meet her consoling grasp. "You are one of the strongest girls I know. You may think that you can't continue without Brittany, but you will. Although your heart may be broken, you need to listen to it. It will help you through the days, weeks, years to come. Whatever is thrown your way, you will overcome."

My already-teary eyes well over and a single tear falls down my cheek. I taste its saltiness as it reaches the corner of my lip and I'm reminded of how many tears I have shed and how many more are to come.

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><p><strong>AN: _PLEASE_ review! I'm curious to see where my readers want this to go! I have a lot up my sleeve but will take opinions! And after you _review_, please share this with others! Danke!**


	4. UPDATE

UPDATE:

Sorry for the big break in this story. I have been extremely busy lately with a play and senior year and spring break and work and all that. I am working on more chapters and will have them posted as soon as possible I promise! Please be patient, write a review if you haven't and SHARE this with your friends please! I can't continue this story without my amazing readers and I really do want to hear your feedback! Thankies mucho!


	5. Lunchtime

**A/N: Thank you to my reviewers! You guys are seriously the best.**

**Mimiminaj - Thank you for being my friend and writing such rad reviews. I think I may take you up on your idea of having Brittany's parents. I do really like them, too.**

**Grooviecat - I've never read COLOR. I've actually never read any fics where Brittany has died, so my story is all coming from my head. I hope it doesn't get too similar because that would just get awkward for me... haha. Once I finish, I'll be sure to read COLOR and see how someone else wrote this tricky subject. And, yes, I am really glad Santana turned to Sue for help. Mr. Schue is horrible and Santana hates him pretty much, and Ms. Pillsbury just doesn't cut it.**

**Supergleek and Sticky please keep reviewing! I love hearing from you guys!**

**And all you readers out there! PLEASEEE listen to the song while you read (link: .com/watch?v=9MHGtlEYZBA). It's called Hello by Evanescence. Very beautiful and quite sad.**

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><p>Returning to school sucked.<p>

Majorly sucked.

I walk through the oh-so-familiar hallways of William McKinley High School seeing familiar people, familiar rooms, familiar classes. The only thing that is wrong is the air that I am holding that used to be a pinky wrapped around mine.

To my surprise, I remember the combination to my lock, even though I've been gone for a while. I wish I would've forgotten it, though. I open my locker and memories of Brittany flood through me when I see pictures of her and me together, notes she'd passed to me during classes, and – one of my favorites – a drawing she gave me of Lord Tubbington that says in her comical handwriting, "Lord Tubbington thinks you're purrrrr-fect!"

My lips quiver and eyes water as I stand there staring at the contents of my locker. The hallway empties of humanity and the bell rings to signify the start of class. I barely notice. I grip my books tighter over my chest, turning my knuckles white from the strain. I still can't move or even take my eyes off of the pictures.

I don't know how long I stand there, whether its seconds or minutes. I can't say what emotions I feel because I'm mostly just frozen in time and space.

Suddenly, a hand touches my right shoulder from behind me and I scream, whipping my books back to hit the intruder with one arm and, with the other arm, I reach for the photos and papers magnetized onto my locker door. I throw them to the ground, crinkling some before I can think twice, I whip around to see who surprised me.

"Quinn?" I choke out, breathing hard.

"Santana, I'm sorry," Quinn looks just as shocked as I am. She is holding her arm where I slapped her with my books and her eyes quickly jerk from my face to the papers on the floor and back. She doesn't quite know what to do or say and I'm on an emotional high to do anything except stare at her.

"Um, here, let's get these off the ground," she says nervously, bending down to collect the papers that I flung. I just watch her emotionless as she timidly sets them on the shelf in my locker. "You okay?"

I bite my lips and nod slowly. The realization of the situation hits me. "Sorry, Quinn," I whisper out, looking away from her.

"No, it's okay. Sorry for scaring you like that." Quinn shuffles on her feet. "Mr. Genther sent me to come find you. Do you need a minute?"

I hold back tears, but my lips still shiver. I need to stay strong and make it through today. Brittany would have wanted me to.

And what Brittany wants, Brittany gets.

I close my eyes and shake my head. "No, um, just let me get my books."

Quinn waits patiently and then we walk to the Physics classroom together. Quinn spontaneously grabs my hand and gently squeezes it. A tingle runs down my spine as I remember the last blonde I held hands with. Obviously this is out of friendship and support, but I can't help this little thought that pops into my head that it feels good – it feels right.

I think I literally shake my head no and quickly brush that thought away. This is Quinn we're talking about anyway. Quinn is not Brittany. No one can be Brittany now.

Thankfully I sit in the right at the table by the door for Physics, so when Quinn and I enter the room, she releases my hand before anyone can see and quietly makes her way to her seat as I slip into mine almost unnoticed.

Mr. Genther, a short, stocky ex-farmer gives me a small, sad smile as I take my place and continues on with his lecture about lightning. Although usually I am fascinated by Physics (which I don't tell many people because only nerds like science), I can't focus on Mr. Genther's lesson and I don't even bother trying to take notes. I just stare absentmindedly at the wall with my hands folded neatly in my lap until the bell rings.

I notice Quinn is making her way towards me, but I get out and away before she could make it through the throng of people to me. I just want to be left alone for the rest of the day. And especially be away from Quinn. I try to remember how exactly it felt when she held my hand, but I don't want to because it seemed to have just reminded me of Brittany.

The day drags on as I sit in each of my classes in a daze. During lunch, I take my brown sack that I packed at home to the bathroom, lock myself in a stall, and nibble on my sandwich. I don't feel like eating much so I just sit there with my bag still on my lap and my backpack slumped against my shin.

My eyes wander lazily around the stall, reading the things that people have graffiti-ed on the wall. Most were just hearts surrounding two sets of initials (I found a few RB + FH with gold star stickers next to them…), there were some quotes or lyrics from songs, random swear words, among the typical bountiful amounts of penises drawn.

Nasty little things.

But my eyes catch one small lyric that some one wrote on the bottom corner of the stall door.

_I won't give up on us_

_Even if the skies get rough_

_I'm giving you all my love_

_I'm still looking up_

I recognize the song it's from and gasp as the memories flood back of Brittany's last night with me. We were looking on YouTube for duets to sing in Glee and we stumbled upon Jason Mraz's "I Won't Give Up," where these lines are from. Neither of us had heard that song before so I find it very ironic that someone else would have just so happened to write it in the bathroom at school. But as I continue to stare at it, I realize that not only do the lyrics seem familiar to me, but also the handwriting.

Brittany's handwriting.

My heart pounds like a heard of buffalo running across the savanna as I try to figure out how this could be possible. I know for a fact that Brittany had never heard that song before that night. She wouldn't have lied to me and she's the kind of person that can forget important things but will always remember the songs she hears. She's a dancer and music runs in her soul.

I tried to make sense of this. How could Brittany have written something in here without even knowing what it's from? Maybe there could be someone else at this school with similar handwriting, but that just seems way too unlikely since it's about the song we listened to the night she died. The only conclusion I could come to is….

Brittany's still here.

* * *

><p>Here I am, standing outside the choir room door alone. The hallways are empty and I can vaguely hear chatter coming inside the room and Rachel belting out her version of "warm-ups." Everyone else in Glee Club secretly calls them, her "Let-me-sing-as-high-as-I-possibly-can-while-plastering-a-giant-ass-grin-on-my-ugly-face-while-you-all-bow-down-to-my-greatness."<p>

I debate whether or not to turn the door handle that rests under my right hand. Glee Club is where I can feel safe. They are all going through grief of loosing Brittany and I love Glee Club too much to stay away forever. Plus, Brittany would have wanted me to go sing.

And what Brittany wants, Brittany gets.

I step into the room and I feel fourteen pairs of eyes land on me. Rachel, Finn, Puck, Mercedes, Tina, Artie, Mike, Kurt, Blaine, Quinn, Sam, Rory, Sugar, and Mr. Schue all stop what they were doing and an awkward silence settles like mist into the room.

"Hey guys," I say.

They all half-smile and murmurs something under their breath as I make my way to the center of the room by the piano. I take a deep breath as the club quietly settles into their seats.

"I know I haven't really been that open lately and have pretty much ignored all you guys," I take a point to look at Quinn without really realizing what I'm doing. "But I know you're looking out for me and I know how much you guys loved Brittany, too.

"After a big long debate with myself, I've decided to sing you guys a song. Who knows, maybe it'll help me cope or whatever."

I wring my hands together and start to get nervous. I've never been nervous in front of the Glee Club before. But this is different. I'm not competing for a solo or shaking my ass with Mercedes, or even auditioning with the unholy trinity. No. Today I'm singing for Brittany. And maybe even for myself; I'm not quite sure.

"Brittany would have wanted me to do this." I say, and then finish in my head, _and what Brittany wants, Brittany gets._

I already snuck the music into the orchestra room earlier this day with a note simply saying "Learn" and I guess they did and came to rehearsal here. Even Brad shows up, which makes me feel a little less nervous.

The cello player plays a single note, Brad comes in with a soft melody, and then I take a deep breath and sing.

**Santana:**

_Playground school bell rings again_

Rain clouds come to play again

Holding back tears doesn't seem like it's going to happen any time soon, but I push on.

_Has no one told you she's not breathing_

_Hello I'm your mind_

_Giving you someone _

_To talk to_

_Hello  
><em>

_If I smile and don't believe_

_Soon I know I'll wake _

_From this dream  
><em>

I look up at my peers, seeing their faces wet with tears, matching my own. I crescendo into the next verse, letting my emotions flow.

_Don't try to fix me_

_I'm not broken_

_Hello I'm the lie_

_Living for you so you can hide_

_Don't cry  
><em>

I cry anyway. The solo cellist plays beautifully and I can barely hold myself together.

One by one, starting with Quinn, my fellow New Directions come down to me, hold my hands, touch my shoulders, or just stand there and cry. I am barely able to choke out the final verse.

_Suddenly I know I'm not sleeping_

_Hello I'm still here_

All that's left of yesterday

There. I did it. I know Brittany is happy with me, proud of me, even. I collapse into the closest person to me, crying. My Glee family surrounds me and we all hold each other, not speaking. We all think about Brittany. We all know she's not coming back to us. But I'm the only one who knows how much of my fault this is.


	6. ANOTHER UPDATE

Hey guys sorry about this but I'm going to stop writing this story. This morning, I was involved in a car accident (don't worry, both me and my passenger are okay!) because a turkey popped out, a swerved, and couldn't regain control. We ended up in a ditch on the roof of the car. Pretty scary stuff. So continuing this story isn't going to be very good for me right now. Who knows maybe one day I'll finish it. Sorry for all you readers out there! I will be writing more stuff sometime but nothing involving car accidents anymore ha.


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